


Crash and Burn

by catabolix



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Minor Violence, Multi, Swearing, awlkjalskdj i d ont even know please bear with me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-02-24 16:04:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2587514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catabolix/pseuds/catabolix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Drinking in your presence,” he called it. Almost like he still found it hard to believe that he was yours and you were his, and he didn’t have enough time in the world to get used to you. Your head aches and the quiet noise of the hospital machines echoes inside your mind, and the shadows feel like they're growing longer and longer, waiting for you to step into them and disappear forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You roll over and unbury your face from the pillows, glancing at the clock and then staring, watching the little hands move and listening to the quiet clicks they make. The red one is stopped, stuck at the two as the little hour hand passes it, and while the others keep moving it's just clicking back and forth, trying to get past. The hour and minute hands you watch for a moment, but the seconds drag on like they're stuck with the hand itself.

The hospital gown hangs oppressively around your shoulders. You shift in it, your gaze sliding around the room but eventually landing on the clock again with a sigh. You don't remember falling asleep, but by the time your eyes refocus, it's already at the four, and then it's nearing four thirty. Four thirty, in the morning.

You slide up some against the pillows, pulling the covers up to your chin. Except now you're stuck remembering, you’re remembering and you can’t stop and oh god will you ever forget the way it blinded you, the way he sounded, the sudden wave of scented strawberry-

You whimper, sliding back down, still clutching the covers tight against yourself. You don't want to be alive in this instant and you know it's foolish, obviously you're lucky to be alive. But it doesn't feel so lucky when you can't stop replaying it in your head. You roll onto your side, curling your legs up to your chest, and you wish desperately that you had Cronus with you. That you could know if he was safe, where he was or what had even happened to him. That he could be here to constantly find ways to tug you out of your thoughts, or let you catch him staring at you. “Drinking in your presence,” he called it. Almost like he still found it hard to believe that he was yours and you were his, and he didn’t have enough time in the world to get used to you. Your head aches and the quiet noise of the hospital machines echoes inside your mind, and the shadows feel like they're growing longer and longer, waiting for you to step into them and disappear forever.

Another quiet whimper, and you decide that if you're going to be stuck remembering that hell, you might as well go through it in a linear fashion. No sense in swirling images and sounds creating a cacophony.

Cronus wanted to take you out, out to a party. Some friend of his, a graduation or something. He said he’d show you off. Like a trophy, like he never failed to do. You could remember chastising him for objectification of you.

“Not an actual prize,” you said. At least, you think you said something like that.

And then Cronus, teasing, “What then? A gift? A treasure? An acutely talkative know-it-all nerd?”

A nerd. He said it like it was some big insult, but only ever playfully. At this point you’re pretty sure you shoved your hand into his face and turned him aside. Mouth quirked up as you tried not to smile at the tickle of Cro’s lips blowing raspberries against your palm indignantly. You kissed him in apology somewhere along the line.

You wound up going with him, except that you didn't get there, nor Cronus. He wanted to change the radio station, said that he was tired of the string of commercials on this one. Something about how if he heard a particular jingle for the umpteenth time he was “going to call up the godforsaken owner of the company and tell him to clean the carpets with his own-”

You interrupted. Before he could get particularly descriptive, arguing that he would just change the next channel five minutes later, and he'd be better off simply waiting them out. “Just put in a cassette.” This comment earned you the look you knew well. Quirked brows coming together over eyes so deeply blue they almost looked violet, a color shade you felt only existed on Cronus. His mouth turning up on one side in amusement. The other coming down in the “Really, Kanny?” way that you had come to find was custom you and you alone and you found both annoying and pleasing.

He reached up to dust the strawberry air freshener hanging from the car’s mirror. Your own personal touch. An invisible sprinkle of sweet scented artificial pollen was dusted into the air, just as he started to ask for not the first time, “What decade were you even-”

And then he stopped. “Fuck,” hissing from his lips. Jerking the wheel with one hand and not realizing he'd tugged the freshener from its perch. You sat up. Mouth poised to ask what was wrong. Eyes slowly pulling away from reading the book in your lap. Pages between your fingers crinkling with sudden pressure. Cronus’ arm pushing you back. Bright, bright headlights rolling up to meet you. Shattering noises and everything hitting you at once that oh god oh dear god this was a car crash and it was happening right now and-

Now, you couldn't even remember what book it had been. Something Cronus had dropped in your lap before getting in, said it was a present. Yet again you wonder where he is and there’s a soreness in your chest to accompany the ringing in your ears. You pause idly to wonder if it made it to the hospital room with you, but you don’t see it looking around. Grey ceiling, grey-white walls, beige curtains drawn over dusty, dirty window panes. Grey mottled seats and the grey-white checker of the floor to mirror the popcorned paint on the ceiling above. Grey, white, beige, grey, it’s all dull and there’s no book, no nothing to offer colorful solace in the silent, quiet torment. Nothing save Porrim’s red roses and a card, handwritten and signed with a delicate Virgo symbol, promising a new sweater. The card you lift to read over, running a finger over the slightly raised texture of jade gel pen words on cardstock. You didn’t even like the stop sign color of the sweaters she produced for you when the previous ones conveniently went missing. The roses are nearly bright enough to be the exact shade themselves, and you turn away bitterly, tossing the card to the floor just as a nurse enters.

This must be one of the night shift workers, none of whom you envy in the slightest. Tending to patients and toiling away on machines and medicines long into the night was no job you wanted.

“Ooh, you’re awake!” She’s young, and perky. Probably new to the job, even her nurse’s shirt has tiny puppy dogs littered in a haphazard pattern over the fabric. Pugs, you muse.

“Can I see Cronus?” You don’t remember having her stepped in before, and you don’t particularly care to remember her again, but judging by the look on her face she’s already aware of your determined interrogations.

“I’m afraid that not only is it an ungodly time in the early morning and visitors are highly discouraged from showing up out of hours,” her voice rises and falls in a condescending, talking-to-a-preschooler way. For a fleeting moment it reminds you of your brother, who always found a way to talk down to you despite being younger. Another reason to purse your lips in impatience with her. “But he’s also unavailable for visitors at this time.”

The comment sounds like an operator on the telephone, remarking that someone wasn’t picking up and asking you to leave a voicemail.

Your tongue rubs against your teeth in a quick tch, and you slide down from the almost sitting position you’d nearly gotten into, excited for news of Cronus. The blankets are tugged up around your shoulders, flimsy cotton working like a lowered iron wall.

“Now, now, don’t be like that.” She sets the tray you only just realized she was carrying on the bedside table, displaying your packaged breakfast with gusto. “You can see him in about a day! Maybe more, but if you’re both good enough and you behave, the sooner it’ll happen.”

Her voice is sickly sweet and you scowl into your pillow, wishing Cronus was here. He would know to shoo her away. He could dial up the charm to an awful degree, hitting on her until she fled uncomfortably, or he could get scary and downright tell her to leave. You’d only seen him in frightening light maybe three times, and on two accounts it was for your sake.

Bitterly, you glance at the clock. Only fifteen minutes have passed since you woke and began re-remembering. A hand comes up to brush your messy hair away from your eyes.

Vantas, Kankri reads the little wristlet on your hand. You want to cut it off, but there isn't anything sharp within reach and the doctor would simply pull a new one and slap it on, smiling all the while he reprimanded you. Asshole. You think how you would quietly remark to Cronus about the natures of the staff and how multiple things could be improved, the god-awful food most certainly, or the too bright and simultaneously dim lights above, ticking them off in your head and then going on to list the various upsets and triggers that could be caused without a thought. A yawn, and you’re already thinking of them. The rude actions of the nurse, for one, her happiness was completely unnecessary and some people not unlike yourself were just not in the mood for such bullshit. The doctor’s bland habit of not even waiting for you to adjust to news or catch on to even listen, and merely plowing through his spiel regardless of whether or not his audience was following his train of thought or even fully conscious. The completely depraved lack of privacy that was afforded to guests, leaving you under the dim moonlight like an animal for this woman to gawk at.. You know Cronus would watch you for a moment, looking over your face and trying to hide that infuriating little smirk that would tug at the corners of his mouth whenever you went on a rant. Then he'd probably kiss you to shut you up, endearingly frustrating as it was, or he'd turn to rest his head in your lap to let you play with his hair while you spoke.

You miss him. It's only been a couple days or less, but stuck in this bed without any change in hour to hour has left you with nothing but your own thoughts and quite frankly, you're sick of yourself. Since visitors aren't allowed yet, you've no way of getting someone to fetch your laptop or a book, or anything really. You settle for cursing out the hospital members again, playing with combinations of swears. You never utter them out loud, no. You could spark offense or possibly trigger someone, and you’d be no better off than you are now. But just fuming in your mind is better than dull docility.

You roll over again. The nurse is just picking up the card you dropped and admiring it, degrading more of your privacy as she reads the message and then sets it back beside the roses. Perhaps tomorrow you can persuade the doctor to let you see Cronus. He's your boyfriend, you're the closest thing he has. Neither of you are particularly close with family, proven at least on your side by the lack of attendants in the current “Family Only” stage of visiting hours. Surely they'd let you in to see him. You start putting together an argument while she walks out the door, and slowly, you drift into restless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Porrim sits back, fetching her phone from her pocket. You hadn’t heard it go off, but now you can clearly hear the obnoxious tune to some pop melody or another. She stands fully, throwing out a hand to brush against the side of your head. She’d done it to you since you were kids, and you realize you don’t remember the last time you’d seen her before the crash. You avert your eyes as she leaves, trying to think. Counting each fold of the fabric like a crossed off date that Porrim wasn’t with you.

Bright, morning lights and an almost visible shape in front of your groggy eyes reveals that in being so focused on Cronus’ visiting hours, you seemed to have forgotten your own and merely substituted his own for yours as well. Because clearly, judging by the perky Maryams in front of you, your visiting hours are very much functional and available.

A hand comes up, raggedly brushing through your dark bangs that cloud your already hazy vision. Porrim reaches to brush them away from your eyes, and in turn your fingers swat hers away. You can handle your own hair, thank you, and you begin to tell her so before she interrupts.

“Kankri. Let me have this small affordance.” Her eyes pierce yours, hand still poised a few inches from your brow, and you know that any and all arguing won’t get you anywhere, least of all out of her mothering whims. In concordance, your hand falls and she offers a small smile, fussing over your mop of hair even as you try to sit up and stretch away.

Kanaya stands behind her elder sister, looking distastefully around the room, at it’s colors and meager decorations. You can only imagine her responses, and already feel a warning to her possible offenses in expressing her opinion warming on your tongue.

Instead, Porrim is leaning back and admiring her handiwork, wordlessly cutting off your tongue before you’ve even started. “Better, much.”

Kanaya shifts to hide behind her elder sister as a nurse enters, who, judging by the look on her face, is surprised either with the fact that you possess close enough ties with anyone to give cause for actual visiting, or that such ties would result in such pleasant looking company. Wherever they go, the Maryams always seem to turn heads, whether intentionally or not. Porrim finds it amusing, you find it rather topic contrasting. Numerous one sided conversations had spent hours trying to drill the self entitlement and haughty pleasure from your dearest friend, all in vain. 

As if knowing your thoughts, something Porrim appears to do frequently, she offers a sly smile and bats her eyelashes at the nurse as he does a routine check over your machines and charts. The notes left by other nurses he almost doesn’t remember, and quite frankly you don’t believe he’d be missing much. With your snappish attitude lately they’ve all been eager to leave and write minimally, and it’s not like you’ve anything horribly wrong that you’re trying to heal from. He marks down a few things, flushing softly under the tripled gaze.

“Cute.” Porrim ducks her head towards you, speaking softly but making no effort to hide her voice from him. You swear the tips of his ears turn red and she grins, waving as the nurse leaves. Kanaya clears her throat once he’s gone, as though she’d been holding her breath.

“The objectification of not only a completely stranger but also a staff member, let alone a hospital staff member, is incredibly rude and not to be expected to be greeted with anything but negative outcomes. You shouldn’t express such things at all, Por, let alone in his hearing range.” Your eyebrows come down as you speak, but quirk up again when you’ve finished.

The elder Maryam snorts, to which the younger lets out a small chuckle in reply. “At least we know one of you is back to normal health.”

Your eyes roll, and you cross your arms to let yourself fall back against the pillows. A quiet fumph sound escapes them, and you snuggle up until the blanket pools around your ankles, your knees to your chest. You begin to nag at her again, but then, “One of us?”

Porrim only raises a brow before brushing your question aside and reaching out to brush your bangs aside again, observing your own eyebrows this time. “You’ll need another small touch up once you get out of here. They said tomorrow’d be fine, think you can stop by? I’ll clean you up, get rid of that awful antibiotic smell.”

You don’t even wait for her this time when you shove her hand away, legs coming down again, over the side this time. “What did you mean, “one of us”? You shouldn’t say something vague and not expect an ask upon its elaboration, and ignoring said ask is incredibly rude.”

The first word that’s been uttered by Kanaya since she entered isn’t even technically a word, and you bite the bottom of your lip to keep from glaring at her for the lack of information. “Oh.”

“If you’re going to be cranky, maybe we should leave.” Porrim clicks her tongue, stepping back and placing her hands on her hip, glancing towards the rejected card that she’d sent previously. “What do you think it means? Honestly, you’re able to put two and two together, Kankri.”

You open your mouth to retort, but it closes. Naturally, you and Cronus would have separate healing paths. “He’ll be out soon after I am, though, yes?”

Porrim sits back, fetching her phone from her pocket. You hadn’t heard it go off, but now you can clearly hear the obnoxious tune to some pop melody or another. She stands fully, throwing out a hand to brush against the side of your head. She’d done it to you since you were kids, and you realize you don’t remember the last time you’d seen her before the crash. You avert your eyes as she leaves, trying to think. Counting each fold of the fabric like a crossed off date that Porrim wasn’t with you.

It’s not until you hear the quiet noise as she adjusted herself and the sudden crease of weight on the bed that you notice Kanaya sitting beside you. She flattens out the short skirt at her waist, discomfort twining her fingers in the pleats. You glance up at her pretty brown eyes, taken aback for a moment by how very much she looked like Porrim. She laughs a little when you look long enough to call it a stare, and you turn away again.

“Porrim wanted me to wear something different when we went out today. She said it was about time that I got out of the house again. It’s a nice break from working on my portfolio.”

Stubbornly, like a young child you looked over to her and didn’t bother taking the pout from your face. “She brought you along just to see me? Doing something against one’s will is-”

Kanaya shakes her head, interrupting you. “Oh, no, I offered her the company. She was just excited, I believe.”

You tuck your feet up to the bed again, crossing your arms over your knees and resting your chin on them to watch her. You’re certain that you’d spent time with Porrim at least once in the past few months, though you can’t ever recall really looking at her sister or focusing on her. You knew fairly little, besides the fact that Kanaya was a cousin that had been adopted into the family for her to pursue her studies here and gain assistance from Porrim. The two had melded into sisters, and no one thought to detail differently.

“You know what the issue with Cronus’ visiting hours is, don’t you?”

Immediately, the smallest Maryam quiets and fiddles with her skirt again. “They said telling you might stress you further and set your recovery back.”

Inwardly, you question the amount of stress you were apparently undergoing, and grumble about the minimal recovery actually needed. “I was just knocked out and bruised, they’ve nothing to worry about. Even Porrim noted that I was ship-shape and top notch.”

“He’s..” She glances towards you shyly, pursing her lips.

You can’t really stop yourself from lifting your head and leaning forwards a little bit.

“He broke a lot of things. They said it had apparently collided on an angle, since he had jerked the wheel away. So you weren’t really hit much at all.”

Thus, Cronus had taken the brunt of the hit and who knew what extent his injuries would entail. You certainly didn’t, but you weren’t sure you could ask now. You hold up a hand to stop her, the other coming around your stomach, pushing away the what-ifs you’d so far managed to hold off.

“He tried to protect you,” Kanaya murmurs, and starts to gather her things together. “Porrim and I are late for a shopping trip with the Pyropes, we’ll be looking at materials for custom boards for them. And design drafts, those too, yes.” She clears her throat, not knowing you well enough for a proper goodbye.

“Thank you.” You murmur softly, already settling down to lay on your side, on your back, away from the door. Your voice cracked, but you don’t much care.

“He’ll be okay.” She pats your shoulder gently, setting a book on your bedside table, and walking out to leave you on your lonesome once again.

The shadows of early afternoon light start to roll through the blinds, and it appears you’d misjudged the time of day. But you try to sleep anyways, not wanting to fill your head with your own thoughts any more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prrs softly. oops! the continuation for this got super duper delayed. i've been really busy and under a lot of stress lately, so my apologies. :CC but !! i did get the second chapter up at last so here it is!  
> comments/critiques are always welcome. hope you enjoyed!! <33

**Author's Note:**

> s ooo. this is my very first ao3 work so please be gentle aha  
> but lemme know what you think if you want!! comments/critiques are always welcome. hope you enjoyed!! <33


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